The Kindness Of A Sunflower (h.s)

thirty five

december 31st, 2021

paige

"Paige? How does it look?"

I look at myself in the dressing room mirror, examining every inch of myself in the sparkling dress. It was News Years Eve and Gemma had decided we hadn't spent nearly enough girl time together, so she dragged me out of Harry's clutches with a smirk on her face and took me to one of her favorite boutiques in London. All of us, except Anne, had driven to the bustling city two days ago.

Gemma and her boyfriend had gone to their apartment and Harry and I had gone to his. He was relieved I think to hear I didn't want to do all the typical tourist stuff here. I wanted to see the beauty of the city and experience it as if I was a native. I didn't feel a burning desire to ride the London Eye, but wanted to find the hidden cafes and shops that made the city unique.

Harry had woken me up at one in the morning, shoved me into a hoodie, big fluffy coat, and a pink beanie and walked out the door grasping my hand. He took me to a bridge where we sat on a bench and looked out the perfect view of London all lit up.

"This is where I like to come at night. When I go out during the day, it can get a little hectic, so I would come here when I couldn't sleep to see my favorite city in the world. I came here for the first time when I moved here. Now I have my first memory and my favorite memory of London here," he had said to me.

It reminded me of when he took me to a little creek and bridge that had looked a bit familiar in his hometown.

"Harry Styles, did you just bring me to the place where you had your first kiss?" I asked him.

He chuckles and puts his arm around my shoulder and brings me over to the brick wall that had been covered in chalk and paint messages over the years.

His fans.

I had always seen videos on Twitter and Instagram of how people had come here and left him messages of encouragement and words of dedication and love.

I smile seeing all the notes and the faint 'HARRY' that he had written all those years ago.

I snake my fingers through his that was resting over my shoulder and look up to smile at his focused expression.

"I come here everytime I come home," he says quietly.

"Really?"

He nods his head and looks at me.

"About two years after I first came here, I was visiting my mum and someone had posted online that I was here. People came and pretty much mobbed me. I mean it's not like I'm not used to that, but I was in a bad place and I really just wanted to come home and have some peace and quiet. I wanted a break. It was really the only time I resented my job. It was the only time I was really unhappy with the chaos that came along with it. I came here at about one in the morning because it was my spot. That was the first time I saw this wall. I saw all of the things they said. It wasn't as big as it is now, but there were about twenty messages and it reminded me why I do this. I make music because I love it, but to be able to create something that is able to reach such a large audience and to have it connect with people. Everytime I come back home, I come here and read every message. I usually come at night, like right now, because people aren't here. I take a photo each time and anytime I have any feeling of resentment or feel overwhelmed, I look at the most recent photo of it."

My eyes never left his face as he told me this and the whole time he was talking he kept his locked on the brick wall in front of us. After a moment, he turns to me and reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a paint marker and hands it to me. I smirk up at him as I take the marker from him and shake it before taking off the cap and walking up to the brick.